


Bloodless Battle

by CaptainKenway



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 1800s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Austria, France (Country), Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainKenway/pseuds/CaptainKenway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The haste of battle and strategic location of the Bernbach Bridge forces French Marshals Eames and Arthur to attempt to accomplish the impossible: capture a heavily guarded bridge with no weapons. Two French Marshals vs an entire Austrian troop. Can Arthur and Eames successfully distract the hostile Austrian until reinforcements arrive? At what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodless Battle

“This isn’t going to work,” Arthur protested.

“It’s our best shot,” Colonel Cobb reprimanded.

Arthur stared at his commanding officer and, unfortunately, the highest ranking officer in the regiment—Commandant Saito would never allow this plan to commence, Arthur would bet his left foot. “It’s really not, sir.”

“Darling,” Eames began, as usual putting an unnecessary purr when he said Arthur’s last name, “we don’t have time to sit around chatting. This is our best plan and we need to employ it immediately. Unless you can think of an alternative?”

Fucking Eames knew he didn’t have anything in mind. The French needed to capture Bernbach Bridge, the only standing bridge that crossed the Austrian river in thirty miles both directions. Clearly, the Austrians were either awful planners or brilliant strategists. Both sides knew where the French army was heading.  It led to a minute-to-absolutely-no French strategic advantage and the Austrians rigging the bridge to explode at the first sign of a Frenchmen, wiping out as many French soldiers as possible in the blast.

So here they were—some of the French Army’s supposed ‘best’ strategic minds—about to employ the most hair-brained scheme in military history.

Arthur grimaced at the map unrolled on the haphazardly placed table, the sun beating down on the colonel and two marshals. “We need to secure the bridge quickly. As much as it pains me to admit, this is our only slightly conceivable plan.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eames said. “Let’s straighten our uniforms. We mustn’t look like we were just in a warzone.”

“If we fail, I’ll strangle you with your entrails,” Arthur warned, glaring at Eames. Colonel Cobb opened his mouth as if to reprimand him but then shrugged, turning to the elite squadron leader to deliver the finalized commands. Arthur felt like the slight widening of Nash’s eyes was a huge understatement.

“Your vivid imagination is precisely why you were chosen,” Eames said decisively.

“Entrails, Eames, _entrails_.”

“I heard you the first time, Darling. I do tend to listen to people who follow my hair-brained schemes.”

“I’m only following along because this is the only shot we have of taking the bridge and not delaying the battle in the north for months.”

“I see past your condescension and acknowledge your underlying, unwavering loyalty,” Eames declared.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “If we survive this, you owe me a drink.”

“So I die if we fail and owe you a drink if we win,” Eames mused. “I don’t see the upside for me.”

“The upside is we employ your stupid plan,” Arthur scowled.

“Good point, Darling.”

 

* * *

 

Sweat poured off Arthur’s face. It was a mixture of the stifling summer haze and the fact he was probably going to die within the next few minutes. Bernbach Bridge stood above the roaring Danube River. The bridge was heavily fortified—obviously—soldiers either patrolling up and down the physical bridge or standing near the fort on the far end of the bridge. Cannons and bayonets gleamed in the sunlight, made all the more threatening by soldiers mock-loading cannons with ease.

Arthur concentrated on slowing his fluttering heartbeat. Breath in, breath out. His nerves usually faded once he was in battle, but this was different. They weren’t going into combat. He couldn’t let instincts take over and analyze the sway of battle around him. He and Eames were going to saunter up the bridge and bullshit like their lives depended on it—which they kind of did.

“We’re going to be fine you know,” Eames said. Eames resolutely stared through the trees at the bridge, his lack of leering showcasing his anxiety. “If we get caught we’ll just be prisoners, not corpses.”

“You don’t know that,” Arthur snapped. “The only protection we have is our _words_. We’re not even allowed to look at our weapons.”

“Then you’re in luck that I’m such a silvertongue,” Eames said with a faint smile. “I always use my words as protection.”

“It’s a surprise you haven’t been killed sooner,” Arthur said dryly.

“Darling, sometimes I feel like you don’t appreciate me like you should,” Eames said, beginning his stroll down the paved road. Arthur attempted to relax his stiff strides as he fell into step beside Eames.

“I appreciate you exactly the right amount.”

“Somehow that fails to reassure me.”

A yell indicated the Austrian soldiers spotted their obvious advance on the bridge. Eames and Arthur’s strides did not falter. Arthur licked his lips, unconsciously straightening his spine. “I’ll just tell the Colonel that I shouldn’t make motivational speeches.”

“No, I think your bluntness sometimes puts the soldiers at ease,” Eames said, waving jovially at the scowling Austrian faces behind gun barrels. His grin only widened at their shouted threats.

“Bluntness can only get you so far,” Arthur said. “Case and point...”

“Ah yes, a little finesse is needed here,” Eames said before raising his voice. “Don’t tell me you lot are that much out of the loop. I thought Austrian news would travel quicker...”

“Don’t move any closer,” an Austrian soldier shouted.

Eames and Arthur maintained their casual pace as soldiers shouted and guns were raised.

“This is going great so far,” Arthur muttered.

Eames ignored him. “I thought the Austrians had more honor than this.”

“At least they’re better than the English,” Arthur responded, equally loud.

“I resent that,” Eames said, as they set their first foot on the bridge.

“Halt!” an Austrian soldier shouted, waving a gun in Arthur’s face.

Arthur swatted the muzzle away while Eames laughed. “Son, an armistice has finally been signed. Calm down.”

The soldier faltered. “The...what?”

“Cease fire, truce,” Arthur supplied. “About Goddamn time too.”

“Bullshit,” another soldier said, raising his muzzle.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “You think they’d be more eager for peace, even a temporary one.”

“I don’t know about _this_ one, but I’ll be happy to finally go back to the missus,” Eames said.

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said. “How is Sophia?”

“Still breathing and not killing the kids when I last saw her,” Eames chortled, grinning at the amassing soldiers, who, astonishingly, allowed them to keep moving up the bridge. Suspicious glares were fine, but Arthur kept an eye out for any twitching fingers. He distantly heard yells for who he assumed were the commanding officers.

“That’s really all you can ask for,” Arthur said. He locked eyes with an Austrian captain. “He’s kids are demons.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Eames said. “Sophia is too good for me.”

“She is,” Arthur agreed. “She could do much better.”

“Stop moving!” the captain yelled. “Like hell there’s a truce. We’d know!”

“To be fair, the politicians only agreed for trade and holiday reasons,” Eames said. “And what’s the military supposed to question when they have the opportunity to go home?”

“What holiday?” one of the soldiers yelled.

Eames didn’t miss a beat. “Jours à Pain.”

The muzzles, while still pointed at their chests, began to waver. “...Bread Day?”

Holy shit. Arthur mentally swore. Bastille Day, Eames. Bastille Day is both a summer holiday and real. Fucking Bread Day... “Yes,” Arthur answered primly, “the lady majesty, the queen, serves bread at the Versailles table. They say all bakers are brought to the royal palace and go through trials. Only the three best are chosen. It’s these three royal bakers who then spend seven days and seven nights baking bread for all the French people to enjoy. It’s quite exciting for the citizens. We celebrate and participate in competitions during that week until the final celebration on Jours à Pain.”

“Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it,” Eames said gravely.

“We do love our bread,” Arthur agreed.

More shouts rose as Nash’s grenadiers came into view. His squadron, as ordered, walked in disorganized clumps, weapons slung carelessly across their backs and laughter ringing across the bridge.

“Since the truce is signed, Austrians can now enter France and celebrate Jours à Pain,” Arthur mused.

“Good point,” Eames said. “Of course, France will be decidedly less hostile.”

Arthur let out a deep breath as they stepped on the other side of Bernbach Bridge. He glanced back and watched as Nash’s squadron began their trek across the bridge. The sound of stone striking stone rose even above the dull roar of the uncertain Austrian soldiers and made Arthur’s eyes widened. Eames reacted before Arthur could even formulate a response.

Eames yanked the flint out of an Austrian soldier’s hand—a sergeant Arthur realized as the balding man turned to Eames furiously. The soldiers’ rifles leveled at the two French marshals with renewed vigor. “What’s wrong with you?” Eames yelled at the balding sergeant. “Are you completely daft? What in hell’s name made you think exploding the bridge was a good idea?”

“Me?” the balding sergeant sputtered. “You’re the one—”

“The one ensuring your _attack_ doesn’t end the truce when it just begun?” Eames hissed, towering over the sergeant. “How do you think France—hell even Austria—will react because your twitching trigger finger will make their attempts at a truce all the more fragile? If Austria refuses to hand you over, which, hell, they _will_. Then all the armistice accomplished will be worth shit. And it’ll be _all your fault_.”

The balding sergeant blinked. “I...”

“If you or _anyone else_ tries something like that again, I will arrest you,” Eames spat. “This is bigger than a petty feud or your _personal feelings_. You put our countries at risk.” Eames shoved the flints in his pocket.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur mildly questioned the artillery soldiers mildly. Eames’ glare made a couple soldiers flinch.

A soldier glanced up from where they were adjusting the cannons to point at the approaching grenadiers. “Armistice or not, you French are invading Austria.”

Eames leaned against the cannon, lighting a cigar. “Does it look like those troops are invading anything?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Since you apparently choose to ignore my colleague’s warning and lack discipline to listen to your commanding officer,” Arthur said, eyeing the balding sergeant in disapproval, “I would like to point out that blowing up the bridge would be destruction of public property. Since French lives don’t appeal to you, maybe your own laws will.”

The artillery soldier scowled. “That’s complete bu—”

Arthur turned to the balding sergeant. “Where’s your commanding officer? We need order.”

“And please order your soldiers to _stop trying to start a bloodbath_ ,” Eames hissed.

“At ease, soldiers,” the balding sergeant snapped. The artillery soldier obeyed stiffly, swearing loudly. Gathering Austrian soldiers were torn between hushing him and supporting his rants. They needed to act quickly.

Arthur nodded at the approaching Austrian officers.

“I’m assuming you know about the armistice,” Eames said in lieu of greeting, “and how your troops insist on killing my men and starting a national crisis.”

“The lack of discipline at this base is appalling,” Arthur cut it. “Not only were forces extremely hostile, but they ignored our clearly displayed white flag.”

“And then proceed to list ourselves along with twelve of our men a ‘threat,’ ” Eames said. “We don’t have a big force, but don’t think for a second we aren’t willing to defend ourselves.”

“This is clearly a trick!” cried the artillery soldier. “You cannot be thick enough to believe these bastards. _What_ armistice? Show me one piece of solid evidence proving the truce exists and I’ll back down.”

“You should listen to your commanding officers,” Eames said. “This isn’t for the lowly footmen to decide. Your sergeant ordered you to stand down.”

“You both are fucking manipulative _liars_!”

Arthur turned to the Austrian officers furiously. “Are you really going to let an enlisted man talk to us with such disrespect? We came here honoring our France and Austria’s _agreement_ and—”

“We are deeply sorry,” a flushing Austrian officer interrupted. “We meant no disrespect.”

“Arrest him,” the balding sergeant ordered. Two Austrian soldiers quickly took the artillery soldier’s weapons. The artillery soldier cursed louder and began struggling. “He dishonors Austria and this base.”

“You can’t be serious!” he shouted. “Why the fuck would you trust the _French_ over your own soldiers?”

“We apologize for any strife he or any of our other soldiers caused you,” the Austrian officer said.

Arthur glanced at the Austrian troops, weapons having long been lowered. He made eye contact with Eames, who nodded. “I think we can come to forgive you.”

Eames and Arthur whacked two of the officers across the face as Nash’s grenadiers assaulted the troops from behind. The Austrians were subdued in under five minutes.

“Huh...” Arthur said, sending a messenger to give the ‘all clear’ to Cobb. Austrian soldiers lay tied up and glaring at their French captors. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“You should trust me more often, Darling,” Eames said. He peered down at the now quiet artillery soldier. “This would be the time to say ‘I told you so.’ ”

“That phrase usually isn’t so bittersweet,” Arthur mused.

Eames grinned. “How about that drink?”

Arthur knew his dimples were showing. “Let’s see what brandy the fort has.”


End file.
